


Promise Me You'll Try

by QuillerQueen



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, OQ Camelot, OQ Prompt Party 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25683016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillerQueen/pseuds/QuillerQueen
Summary: Prompt 182 of OQ Prompt Party 2020: Set in Camelot. Henry asks Robin what’s going to happen between him and Regina. He’s scared of her becoming hurt again.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills & Henry Mills, Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Robin Hood, Henry Mills & Robin Hood, Outlaw Believer - Relationship, Outlaw Queen, Regal Believer - Relationship
Comments: 16
Kudos: 20





	Promise Me You'll Try

The pain in Robin’s side is all but gone. Light magic has knitted the wound together, closed the skin, and left only slight tenderness in the area. That, too, is slowly fading.

The fear in Regina’s eyes is still very much there.

So he complies with her order to stay put, to lounge in bed amid velvet cushions, to rest and regain his strength. She’s curled up close, keeping an eye on him, always expecting for the next shoe to drop. He cannot blame her, but oh does he ache for her.

“I’m fine,” he tells her for the dozenth time, and she nods, but a lone tear still manages to break off her lashes and roll down her cheek.

She wipes it away angrily.

“I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you,” she huffs.

“You have. You are.” Robin strokes up and down her back, loath to feel the tension in every muscle. “But you should also be taking care of yourself. When did you last eat?”

She scoffs—as if she were above such trifles.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Well, I am. And I think I’d really enjoy a piece of Granny’s pumpkin pie.”

She’ll see right through that, of course, but that’s not the point, and they both know it.

Sure enough, Regina glares—with no real bite, only a raised eyebrow over eyes filled with infinite tenderness.

“You know I can just use magic, right?”

“Regina, love…”

Her eyes widen at that—she knows, of course she knows how deeply he feels for her, and yet such open affection never ceases to stun her.

The knock on the door startles them. Regina scrambles out of bed (not that they were doing anything remotely indecent) and smoothes down the creases in her skirt.

“Hey...Mom? Robin?” Henry hovers in the doorway. “Sorry, I...guess this isn’t a good time.”

They protest in unison as Regina crosses the chamber and puts an arm around her boy’s shoulder, beckoning him in. 

“Of course it’s a good time, sweetheart. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Henry assures her, then turns to Robin. “Are you?”

Robin props himself up on his elbows, careful to keep his face straight even though the effort does prove somewhat taxing.

“Indeed I am. Actually,” he glances over at Regina, “I was just trying to talk your mother into dinner she insists she doesn’t need.”

Henry tilts his head at his mother in a way that is decidedly reminiscent of her.

“But you haven’t eaten since breakfast. You said you were too nervous before the ball.”

“First of all, I told you that in confidence.” Regina scolds mildly, cheeks flushing. “Second, is this how it’s gonna be now—the two of you ganging up on me?”

“Guess not,” Henry shrugs gamely, while Robin tries his best to contain his smirk. “It’ll be the three of us—Roland would totally be on our side, too. Mom,” he insists. “Go get some food. I’ll stay with Robin.”

“You will? But—didn’t you want to talk?”

“To Robin,” Henry tells her gently.

Regina blinks, glancing from Henry to Robin and back again.

“Oh. Well...” Within a split second, her features rearrange in surprise only to immediately melt into softness with perhaps a tinge of suspicion. She looks over to Robin, and he nods. “I guess I’d better go then.”

She presses a kiss to Henry’s forehead, smiles at Robin, and she’s on her way.

“Come, sit.” Robin gestures to one of the upholstered chairs. “What can I do for you, Henry?”

But Henry remains standing, shuffling his feet.

“This really doesn’t seem like a good time. I know we agreed we’d have a talk after the ball, but...you just almost died.”

“I admit the experience was...daunting.” Regina isn’t the only one with tears to cry—Robin had a hard time, too, coming back from the brink of death, and a good thing Henry didn’t happen to come by when he and Regina were sobbing in each other’s arms earlier that night. But giving those feelings free rein has helped, and he’s regained most of his balance. “Nevertheless, Henry, I assure you I’m well enough for this. To tell you the truth, I’m rather eager to discuss whatever is on your mind.”

Henry nods, pulls up a chair, and sits down. He’s on edge—literally and figuratively. Robin doesn’t rush the lad—they’ve time after all, Regina will make sure to allow them as much as they need, he’s sure of it.

“It’s my Mom,” he says at last. “She’s...she’s been hurt. A lot. And I want to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“I see.” That Henry should want to address this isn’t particularly unexpected. Mother and son have been through a lot together, and their bond is strong. Regina is fiercely protective of Henry, and it’s frankly no surprise the boy would want to do the same for her. “Is your concern with me in particular?”

Henry ponders that for a bit.

“No... Well, yes, in a way it is.” He falls silent again, and again Robin doesn’t interrupt but waits him out. “I like you. You look happy together. I want that for her. She’s worked hard for it, and it’s what she deserves.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Robin sits up a tad straighter, looks Henry straight in the eye. “Henry, what is it you want to ask?”

“Do you love her?”

Robin doesn’t hesitate a moment.

“With all my heart.”

“Do you promise not to hurt her?”

Ah, there it is. He knows exactly what Henry wants to hear, and obviously he’d like nothing more than to be able to say exactly that. But he’s seen enough, lived enough, and loved enough to know it’s not possible to honourably make that promise. And he won’t lie—especially not about this, and especially not to Henry.

“I wish I could,” he sighs, “but I’m afraid no one can promise such a thing. We hurt the people we love sometimes, no matter how hard we try to avoid it.”

“Yeah, well, you already have.” Henry seems both horrified and relieved to have said it, and Robin’’s heart squeezes at the truth of it. “You should have chosen her. She deserves to be your first choice.”

“She does. She is.” But the boy deserves a better answer than that—an explanation, not an excuse. “I felt an obligation to Marian—or who I thought was Marian. I know my original decision caused your mother much pain, and I regretted every bit of it, and always will. It seemed like the right decision, the honourable decision, at the time. I was wrong, of course...and it led to a series of—” he pauses, searching for the right word for the absolute bloody disaster and coming up empty, so he settles for: “very unfortunate events. Regina’s found it in her heart to move past that. I hope you can, too.”

Robin holds his breath—Henry’s acceptance means the world. After all, one of the main things he and Regina share is their deep love and commitment to their children, and the understanding that their children always come first. Not only that, but the lad’s grown on him already, with his bright mind, bold manner, and kind heart.

“Well, it’s not all your fault,” Henry lets on eventually, and Robin breathes more easily. “Zelena manipulated everything, she’s the one to blame. But,” Henry squares his shoulders and leans forward, eyes determined and searching Robin’s own, “I need to know you’re all in. That when there’s trouble again—and there will be, because our family seems to attract it—you will choose my mom, and you will keep choosing her.” 

“That,” Robin says, with his very soul behind it, “I can and do promise you. I know our situation hasn’t exactly been easy, and it’s about to get a whole lot more complicated. I promise you I will do my very best to love Regina, to support her, and to treat her with the kindness and respect she deserves, every single day.”

“Good. You do that,” Henry nods—and then his features finally relax into a smile. “Thanks, Robin.”

“Thank  _ you _ , Henry.” Robin moves to pat Henry’s shoulder in a gesture that’s become quite usual for them but can’t quite reach, so the lad moves closer with a grin. “And it’s never a bad time, all right? I’m here for you, too.”

“I might take you up on that.” Henry bites his lip, suddenly finding a great deal of interest in the carved nightstand, and Robin can see where this is going—Regina’s not the only one who’s noticed her boy with a young lady at the ball. “Possibly soon.”

“So I’ve seen,” he winks, and Henry’s cheeks go red. 

The lad is saved by his mother’s return—Regina knocks softly, then lets herself in balancing two plates piled with sustenance and a radiant (if somewhat wobbly) smile.

“That’s my cue. Good night, you two,” Henry says, grabbing a slice of pie and kissing his mother on the cheek on his way out.

“Is everything all right?”

“More than all right. Now, shall we dine together, milady?”

It turns out Regina must have been truly ravenous, and the near-death experience has boosted Robin’s appetite, so between them they polish off the golden plates momentarily. Then Regina applies more poultice to where his wound used to be, her fingers flitting lightly over tender skin. She slips into her nightgown and crawls into bed with him, settling with her head upon his chest, right over his heart.

“I love you, too,” she breathes—it’s barely a breath, not quite a whisper.

And he understands. She might have heard part of the conversation or, more likely yet, has simply figured out its subject. He knows the deep-rooted fear her profession comes from, comes in spite of. The fear of losing this—of losing him—is constant, borne of a past riddled with loss and pain. The softness, the tremble in her voice, the shakiness of her breath are not a testament to lack of love—quite the opposite. Her words, however soft-spoken, are a triumph and a gift.

Some day, he knows—he hopes—she’ll be ready to say them loudly, firmly, without looking over her shoulder for an invisible enemy out to take everything from her. But this, today? This is Regina, ripping her heart from her chest and handing it to him all over again, just hours after they stood to lose everything.

The sheer magnitude of it renders him speechless.

So he pulls her impossibly close, kisses the top of her head, and (once the lump in his throat allows it) whispers the echo of her own words back to her.

The sun rises, and the future is bright.


End file.
